


I could take you by my side

by foggys_cupcake_girl



Series: Kinktober 2020 [23]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Body Worship, Cinnamon Roll Credence Barebone, Cinnamon Roll Percival Graves, Credence Barebone Crying During Sex, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Crying, Deepthroating, HEYYY I MADE A MOODBOARD FOR THIS ONE, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kinktober, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mary Lou Barebone is Her Own Warning, Original Percival Graves Needs a Hug, Scars, Smitten Original Percival Graves, Theseus is kind of crappy in this one guys I'm sorry, and also some sex, because yeah, brief mentioned Theseus/Percival, but only after a terrible day, everyone just needs a damn hug, guys I'm so tired of writing smut you have no idea, screw kinktober this is feels-tober, she's literally only mentioned but she is still her own damn warning, yeah i know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27252745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggys_cupcake_girl/pseuds/foggys_cupcake_girl
Summary: Theseus leaves Percy on their wedding day. A heartbroken Percy takes refuge in his favorite coffee shop...and finds himself drawn to a beautiful boy who may be just what Percy needs to get over his loss. They say everything happens for a reason...DAY 28 of KinktoberWritten for prompts: Crying | Scars | Deep-throating
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Series: Kinktober 2020 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950283
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	I could take you by my side

Percival Graves looked down at the boutonniere he was holding and made a valiant, but unsuccessful, effort to not moan in despair. He set the flower aside and dropped his face into his hands, sighing heavily as he remembered what had happened that morning. There was really nothing quite as painfully shocking as arriving at the hotel ballroom expecting to see your future husband, only to find a heartbreakingly short note with your name on it in short, stark block letters.

 _Percy,_ _I’m so sorry. I can’t do this. My parents won’t come around and I can’t lose them. I’m going back home. I’m sorry. I wish things could be different._ _—_ _Theseus_

Percy had torn the note to shreds after he read it, and now he was beginning to regret that, because it was the last thing he’d ever have from Theseus. Back at the apartment, Percy found that his ex-fiance had already packed and left. He’d scoured the place like a madman, desperately hoping that Theseus had forgotten something, even just a t-shirt or a half-empty cologne bottle. But no, he had left nothing. He’d even taken shared mementos, like the blue plaid blanket he’d bought Percy as a welcome-to-my apartment gift, and the scrapbook full of ticket stubs from the concerts and plays they’d seen together. Now all Percy had to remember him by was the boutonniere that Theseus was supposed to wear this morning, which he had left along with the note.

The lone small mercy was that his favorite coffee shop was almost empty that evening, and it began to rain just as he arrived. So it was there, curled up in a corner armchair and trying to lose himself in the sound of the rain and the taste of his favorite hazelnut latte, that he was forced to accept the reality that the pain he was feeling now could not be fixed by any of the usual methods. A good coffee and the soothing sound of rain could not mend his broken heart. The problem was, he didn’t know what _would._

Maybe, he thought a little despairingly, it would be easier if he could cry. People always cried in movies when they were left at the altar, didn’t they?

He heard a soft, broken little snuffling noise and looked up. The sound could only have come from the only other customer: the lanky dark-haired boy hunched over one of the tables by the door. The table was a messy spread of textbooks and empty to-go cups and Percy’s heart went out to the poor thing; clearly he was a student and clearly it wasn’t going that well.

He immediately stood up and went over to the little table. Percy couldn’t stand to see other people in pain, no matter what the circumstances. He very carefully pulled out a chair and sat down beside the boy, who was too deep into whatever despair he’d fallen into to notice that someone had joined him. “Hey,” Percy said gently, trying to keep his voice low so as to not startle the boy. “It’s all right. I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, you’re not alone.”

The boy didn’t jump, didn’t even look remotely surprised. Just dragged his face out of his folded arms and slowly uncurled himself until he was sitting up mostly straight…and revealed the most beautiful face Percy had ever seen. Dark eyes to go with the dark hair. Cheekbones and a jaw so sharp they could cut marble. Full, pouty pink lips that just begged to be kissed. The smoothest skin he’d ever seen, gorgeously pale and soft even when flushed and stained with tear-streaks.

For a moment Percy froze, stunned by the boy’s flawlessness. _Are you real?_ he almost asked. But before he could say another word the boy choked a little, cleared his throat, and said hoarsely, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll—I’ll try to be more quiet.”

“Hey, no.” Percy reached out and very lightly laid a hand on the thin shoulder. “I’m not upset with you, darling. Just wanted to see if I could help somehow. I just can’t stand to see someone unhappy.”

The boy looked troubled for a moment, and then the tiniest smile danced at the very corners of his lips. “You hear a stranger crying in a coffee shop and your first impulse is to ask if you can help?”

Percy had to laugh at the way he said it—the same way someone might say _so you’re telling me unicorns are real?_ He let his hand drop, sliding briefly down the boy’s arm before he pulled back. “I’m Percy, by the way. And…you are?”

“Credence.” The boy sniffed a little and brushed a damp strand of hair from his eyes. “Credence Barebone. I’m…I go there.” He gestured in the direction of the door, and Percy knew he was indicating the university across the street.

“Hi, Credence.” Percy caught the boy’s trembling right hand in both of his, more of a gesture of comfort than a proper handshake. “There, love. Now we aren’t strangers anymore, are we? Think you can tell me what’s wrong now, maybe?”

He made to pull back, but Credence started forward just the slightest bit and then looked immensely guilty. Percy instinctively knew that he would mourn the loss of contact and gently closed his hands around the boy’s again. Credence’s lips twitched again, the weakest effort of a smile. “I just—” The smile dropped. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear—”

“I think I do.” Percy decided some privacy was in order. He helped Credence pack up his textbooks, guided him to the comfortable, secluded ring of chairs and loveseats by the fireplace in the corner, and settled Credence into a loveseat beside him. “Now tell me what’s wrong, and we’ll see if I can help, yeah?”

Credence looked at him for a moment, tears welling in his eyes again, and Percy took a chance. He gently pulled the younger man into his arms and guided his head down to his shoulder, wincing in empathetic pain when a shudder went through Credence and he began to cry again. Percy held him close as he cried, whispering soft, reassuring sweet nothings to the boy the entire time, urging him to let it out and promising that he’d be all right.

When Credence eventually was able to calm himself down enough to speak he apologized repeatedly until Percy stopped him. Finally he admitted, eyes cast down, “I…I’m in nursing school and every semester we have to do procedures on a mannequin, you know, stuff that’s too dangerous to learn on a real patient. Then we do it in front of an examiner for a grade. My partner and I had to do a blood transfusion and we really screwed up. We took too long to get the blood into the patient. We were supposed to put a tube down his nose to stop him from throwing up and we didn’t. I gave him a pill instead of putting his medicine in his IV. We ran the bag of saline out on the floor…it was a mess.” He looked so crushed that Percy wanted to cry himself. “I could have killed him,” he said unhappily, and then sniffled again. “I’m going to fail the class, I just know it.”

“Oh, darling. I’m so sorry. That must have been really…” He groped for the right words. “Really embarrassing, yeah? Probably kind of scary, too.”

“Very.” Credence sat up and dried his eyes on his sleeve. “My partner didn’t do too well either, but at least she had the sense to look for a consent form. I was ready to just give the guy the blood without bothering with that.” Credence’s eyes welled with tears again and he curled in on himself, turning slightly away from Percy. “If I fail the class, they’ll take away my scholarship and I’ll have to go back home,” he choked out.

“All right. All right, sh-h-h, don’t get worked up again. We’ll figure it out—”

“You don’t understand,” Credence cut him off, turning back to look at him with wide, frightened eyes. “If I have to go home—” He broke off abruptly and held out his hand, palm-up, and Percy’s stomach dropped as he realized what he was looking at: a network of heavy scar tissue, built up over what must have been hundreds of strikes. “That’s the least of it,” Credence informed him in a broken whisper. “She’ll—she’ll _kill_ me.”

What was left of Percy’s heart immediately shattered. “Oh, Credence…” He pulled the shivering boy into his arms again and held him close. “It’s going to be all right,” he promised quietly. “No one is going to hurt you. Not if I can help it.”

“You don’t know me,” Credence murmured into his neck. “Why do you care?”

“Because anyone with eyes can see that you’re a gentle person with a kind heart. You were worried about killing a mannequin for heaven’s sake! And anyway, even if you weren’t, no one deserves to be hurt like that, darling. Not in their own home, especially.” He drew back a little and made Credence look at him. “I’d like you to come home with me tonight,” he offered carefully. “Just for a hot meal and a place to rest. Just for a little while. I’ll get you back to your dorm in one piece, I promise.”

Credence thought it over for a moment before he looked up to Percy with those big, soft dark eyes. “I know I shouldn’t,” he said quietly, reflectively, “but I think I…I think I will.”

~

It wasn’t entirely altruistic, Percy’s impulsive offer to take Credence home, he’d be first to admit it. The thought of having dinner alone, of going back to a big empty apartment with no one to answer when he called out _I’m home,_ made him feel sick. But focusing on easing Credence’s distress helped Percy block out his own, and the little smiles and almost-inaudible giggles he drew out of the boy when he said something funny or gave him an impulsive hug went straight to the pleasure center of his brain and gave him a kind of relief that he knew even the finest, most potent cocktail couldn’t have provided.

So it was with a certain amount of relish that he took the sweet kid home with him, dried his tears and soothed his puffy eyes with a warm compress, gave him a glass of dry red wine to calm his nerves, and made him sit at the breakfast bar while Percy cooked them dinner.

While he cooked, Percy drew snippets of information out of Credence, one scrap at a time, until he’d learned most of the boy’s story. Credence had left home at sixteen and worked very, _very_ hard to finish high school, sleeping in a friend’s basement and working at McDonald’s after school to save up for his own place. He’d gotten into college on scholarship from his grades and, much to his apparent disgust, from his church. He wanted more than anything to be a nurse, because (“I know it’s a cliche, I’m sorry”) he wanted to help people heal. Now he worked as a nurse aide and spent almost all of his time studying.

They ate in the living room in front of the electric fireplace, a generic action film on the TV that they both ignored. Credence had found his voice, and began to innocently toss questions at Percy about his life, too—when had he come to America? What did he do for work? Any family? Siblings? Was he married?

The last one, of course, threw Percy for a bit of a loop. “Ah. Well. Not exactly.” His eyes strayed to the boutonniere that he’d left on the kitchen table. “It’s more…well. He, ah…he decided…that he didn’t want to be married, so.”

“Oh.” Credence gave him a pained look. “Then he’s stupid. I’m sorry, it’s mean, but it’s true. Anyone with eyes”—echoing Percy’s phrase from earlier, and for what reason he couldn’t say, didn’t _that_ tug on his heartstrings—“could see that you’re, like. _Incredible.”_

Percy managed a smile at that. “Sweetheart, you’ve known me all of two hours.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Credence said firmly. “I know a good thing when I see it.”

Percy should have pushed him away. But when Credence set aside their plates and crawled across the couch to snuggle up against him like a puppy, Percy just didn’t have the strength to resist.

~

It happened in the blink of an eye. One moment they were cuddled up together in front of an awful remake of an ancient Schwarzenegger movie, the next Percy found himself with a ridiculously beautiful boy in his lap…and then he felt a pair of delicious, warm lips descend onto his.

Oh, but it was _good._ The kiss was deep and slow and absolutely sinful. Credence traced along Percy’s lips with his tongue before he carefully probed his way inside, exploring Percy’s mouth with the same care with which he might perform a medical procedure. His hands tenderly cupped Percy’s face, thumbs lightly stroking the curve of his cheeks. “Is this okay?” he asked when he pulled back.

“Credence,” Percy breathed. “Oh, love, if this is gratitude, I’m so sorry, I—I never meant to make you think you had to—to—”

“I know I don’t _have_ to. Most would probably say I _shouldn’t.”_ Credence leaned in and lightly nipped Percy’s bottom lip before he added, “But you’re handsome and you’re nice and I _want_ to.”

Percy reached up and ran his hands slowly down the stretch of Credence’s back, feeling the heat of his skin through his corduroy shirt. “Credence, I…I’m too old for you, you must know that.”

“Age is only a number.” Credence looked down into his eyes, earnest and tender and so, so _real._ “I want this, I swear. No one is forcing me.” Suddenly he looked uncertain. “But if you really don’t want me I’ll go.”

“No, darling. I do want you.” Percy’s aching heart fluttered in his chest, a little taste of the pleasure and relief he knew was to come if he let this play out. “I want you very badly. I just. I don’t want to hurt you, or take advantage of you.”

“Percy…if I was afraid of that even for a minute I never would have come home with you.”

Oh. Well, then. Who was Percy to argue with that?

~

They made a blanket-nest of sorts in front of the fireplace and turned off the rest of the lights, so that the room was filled with a warm glow. Percy laid Credence out on the hearth and admired him openly as he undressed him. “You’re lovely, my sweet, did you know that? You _are,”_ he insisted when Credence blushed and shook his head. “So beautiful a man could cry looking at you. Are you a fae, precious? Are you here to put a spell on me and steal me off to faerieland?”

Credence smiled and shook his head, his cheeks still rosy even in the dim glow of the firelight. “No, I’m human. I’m real.” He hesitated a little when Percy made to pull off the tank top under his thick corduroy shirt. “Um. It’s not…it’s not very pretty under there.”

Percy looked at the tangle of white limbs and dark silky hair before him and frowned. Not pretty? What on earth could he mean, there was _nothing_ about Credence that wasn’t pretty. “Darling, whatever it is, I won’t be upset by it, I promise.”

Credence nodded slowly and let Percy strip off his tank top, revealing…oh. Oh, well now. Percy could definitely understand why Credence felt self-conscious. A long, thin scar snaked its way from his collarbone to his hip, a collection of thin round burn-marks marred his abdomen, and—perhaps most disturbing of all—in the hollow beneath his ribs (the poor thing was so thin, could he not afford to eat?) there was tough, white strip of scar tissue, thicker in the middle and pointed on either end. A knife wound. Percy’s blood ran cold.

“What happened to you, my love?” he asked softly, reaching out and gently stroking the poorly-mended wound. It must have bled for days, he thought, his stomach churning painfully.

Credence looked up at him helplessly, eyes liquid in the firelight. “I told you…I had to go or she would kill me.”

Percy lay down beside Credence and gently gathered him into his arms. “No one will hurt you again, sweetheart. I swear it.”

He was determined to stay strong. But as he held Credence close, the tears he hadn’t been able to shed for himself came over him all at once, and he cried quietly into the boy’s hair, his heart breaking and mending all at once as he felt the thin, strong arms wrap around him and comfortingly stroke his back.

~

For what must have been hours they lay in the tangle of blankets, exchanging languid, messy kisses as they dried each other’s tears. Credence slowly let Percy remove more of his clothes until Credence lay fully exposed and vulnerable to his touch, letting out soft gasps and moans as Percy worshipped every inch of his skin. Percy made sure to take special care to kiss and caress each scar, trying to replace the memories of pain with present comfort and pleasure.

It was nearing midnight when Percy finally allowed Credence some measure of reciprocation. He sat up and let Credence follow him and peel off his shirt, unable to hold back a selfish rush of delight when Credence’s eyes widened at the sight of his body. “Like what you see?” he teased, and then gasped when Credence, apparently having had enough of the slow build they’d enjoyed all night, zeroed in on his chest and swirled a tongue around his nipple. “Oh God. Sweetheart, take it easy on me,” he pleaded.

“No,” came the softly defiant reply, and then apparently it was Percy’s turn to be worshipped. Credence couldn’t seem to get enough of touching him, his hands ran over Percy’s chest over and over, nails scratching gently, fingertips seeking out every dip and curve, every little place that made Percy shudder and moan.

“I need to make love to you, Credence,” he breathed into the curve of the boy’s delicate neck as those long fingers worked furiously at the button and zip of his pants. “Please, _please_ let me.”

“If I can get these stupid pants off you—” Credence worked the button free and shoved down the offending jeans. He grinned in satisfaction when Percy’s cock sprang free, and leaned down to nuzzle at the tip. When Percy croaked out a plea to stop before he just exploded, Credence just laughed and possessively sucked a bruise into his hip.

Percy was already dizzy, all of the lust he’d been ignoring in favor of comforting and pleasing Credence suddenly bursting free. “Sweetheart, you’re playing with fire,” he warned.

Credence lay back and stretched out, back arching in a feline way that sent a bolt of arousal shooting through Percy like lightning. Gone was his anxiety, replaced with the obvious delight of knowing that he was wanted. “If you want me,” he said delicately, “then why don’t you have me?”

“Gladly.” Percy leaned over and latched onto the boy’s slim neck, sucking and nuzzling until he felt Credence writhing beneath him. He pulled back to examine his handiwork, smirking in satisfaction when he saw the image before him: Credence lay sprawled on the blankets, his hair mussed and his eyes dark with need, his face flushed, lips red and swollen, neck a mess of hickies.

Percy reached down to caress Credence’s swollen cock, just one slow, gentle swipe that made Credence arch up and let out a low, animalistic sound. It went through Percy like a torpedo, and all of a sudden it was just _too much,_ the sight of this model-beautiful boy splayed out and panting, _aching_ for him, the teasing, the increasing trust and desire flourishing between them, and the look of pure bliss on Credence’s face when he touched him—

“Oh. Oh _God,”_ he breathed, gripping Credence’s waist hard enough to bruise as a rush of uncontrollable pleasure flooded through him. He knew what was happening, but it still shocked him to the core: he hadn’t come untouched like this since he was in high school.

Credence looked almost as surprised as Percy felt. “Well, that’s flattering,” he said, a teasing smirk playing across his lips. 

Percy winced and drew away, shame sinking in at the sight of the bruises he’d left on Credence’s pale skin and the realization that he’d just completely blown it. Literally and figuratively. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he said miserably. “I can’t believe I just—God, like a fucking teenager—”

“Don’t be.” Credence sat up and gently traced his fingers down the curve of Percy’s cheek. “It’s all right. Kind of hot, actually,” he added, something warm and playful in his eyes. “I mean, I knew you liked me, but not _that_ much.”

Percy rolled his eyes a little. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he teased, leaning in and settling Credence back into the blanket nest. “It may have had at least a _little_ to do with the fact that we’ve been building up to this for, y’know, a good three or four hours now. I can only hold out so long, love, I’m sorry.”

 _“I’m_ sorry, but who’s to blame for the ‘building up to it for three hours’ part? Because last I checked _you_ were the one who decided to—oh,” Credence moaned as Percy’s tongue found his pert nipple. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“I hope so.” Percy kissed his way down Credence’s body, stopping to dip and swirl his tongue in his bellybutton, then taking a detour to explore the crease of his thigh. “Relax,” he ordered when Credence tried to sit up again. “My dick might be useless right now but I can still show you a good time and I plan to, damn it.”

Credence whimpered as Percy nibbled and flicked his tongue over the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, then made a pitchy squeaking noise as Percy discovered the back of his knee. “Oh! Percy, _please,_ stop teasing,” he begged.

“What do you want then, lovely? Want me to make you come?” He flicked his tongue over the profusely-leaking tip of Credence’s cock, groaning appreciatively at the taste. “Sweetheart, you taste so good you’re gonna make me hard again, you know that?” He licked him root to tip, relishing the cries it drew from that beautiful mouth. “So _good._ Mmm, I could eat you up…in fact, I think I will…”

 _“Please,”_ Credence sighed, and then let out a keening moan as Percy swallowed him down.

Theseus wasn’t a huge fan of oral (which perhaps should have been a red flag from the start), so it had been some time since Percy had deep-throated someone. But determination went a long way, and Percy was hell bent on making his sweet boy feel good. Credence’s moans and gasps egged him on, making it feel almost easy to take him all the way down. He had to fight to not gag, forcing himself to remember (even as those long fingers very distractingly played in his hair) to breathe through his nose.

But oh, the way Credence whimpered and writhed beneath him made it all so, _so_ very worth it. Percy let his eyes fall closed, the last vestiges of his earlier pain slowly draining away—had he just been left at the altar that morning? it felt so much longer ago now, a lifetime ago even—as he gave himself over to giving pleasure. At some point it was no longer necessary for him to force his throat to relax and force himself to breathe, it just came back to him, natural and easy as anything, and a sensation of…of safety, of _home,_ floated over him. This was good. This, he could do.

And he _did._ Credence, young and worked up as he was, didn’t last longer than a few minutes, and somewhere in the back of his mind it clicked into place that Credence had meant it when he’d said that seeing Percy come early was flattering, because he felt a bone-deep sense of satisfaction when Credence had barely squeaked out a warning before he came, sudden and intense, slender hips jerking and inhuman noises spilling from his throat. “Percy! _Percyyy,”_ he cried out, fingers tightening desperately in his hair.

(Percy was glad, again very selfishly, that he’d kept his hair long even though Theseus had balked at it, saying it made him look “rakish and unkempt.” Clearly, Credence had no complaints.)

“I love you,” Credence gasped as he went boneless in the afterglow of his climax. “Oh God. I love you.” And then, just as suddenly as he’d come, he started to cry.

For a moment Percy was too dazed to respond. Feeling as though he were coming out of a trance he let Credence’s cock slip from his wet lips, his hand drifting up automatically to wipe his mouth as his brain slowly came back online. “What’s wrong?” he heard himself ask.

“I—I didn’t mean—I’m sorry, I—please pretend I didn’t say it,” Credence pleaded, turning over into the fetal position and burying his face in the blankets.

“Oh…oh, Credence, no.” Finally Percy realized what was happening and quickly lay down beside Credence. He drew a blanket up over them both before he wrapped his trembling young lover in a protective embrace, spooning him from behind. “You don’t have to be sorry. I’m certainly not going to hold that against you.” He gave Credence a loving little squeeze. “I’d just like to hold you, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m just a rebound—I know it, you know it, you don’t have to—”

“Sh-h-h. You sweet thing. You’re _not_ ‘just a rebound.’ I swear it on every saint and every demon, sweetheart, I fell the minute I looked into those lovely eyes of yours.”

Credence was so shocked he stopped crying. He turned, slowly and cautiously, and chanced a look at Percy’s face. “You—what?”

“I didn’t plan on this, you know. I didn’t mean to take you home and have my way with you.” Percy comfortingly stroked Credence’s thin shoulder and went on, “But when you kissed me…I never stood a chance. I wasn’t kidding when I called you a fae, sweet boy. You own me now, I think.”

“You mean…” Credence looked so astonished it hurt; Percy wished he knew the right thing to say to convince the boy he was wanted. “You mean…you’ll still want me tomorrow?”

“Credence, my love, I can’t see a day coming when I _won’t_ want you.”

Well. Apparently that was it, because Credence promptly buried his face in Percy’s chest and held on like the world was ending. “I love you,” he whispered, trembling like a leaf in Percy’s arms. “I love you, oh, I _love_ you.”

“And I love you, my boy. Now…please tell me you’ll stay?”

“Oh, Percy, _yes._ Always.”

~

(Credence, as it happened, did not fail his class. He and his partner were offered a chance to redo the simulation, and this time they passed.

And Percy threw away that boutonniere the next day. No need to hang on to the past, after all, when a perfectly lovely future sat right before him.)


End file.
